


Forgotten

by Spearmintium



Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: Benson the Ventriloquist Dummies, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 19:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spearmintium/pseuds/Spearmintium
Summary: There's no greater fear, to a toy, than being forgotten. Gabby Gabby is temporarily placed in the storage room of the antique shop. New friends are found.





	Forgotten

Each year, much like clockwork, went as follows. Readjustment, reshelving, a little to the left, a little to the right. In fact, it wouldn't even been a hazarded guess to assume she'd been placed upon just about every surface a wandering eye would think to check.

Which was why, upon one misty morning, when the familiar toggle of the light switch heralded the amber illuminated glow of business hours, not being readjusted per usual, was cause for immediate confusion. It also took every ounce of restraint not to lean, and look, as footsteps progressed to the back counter. 

Curiosity co-mingled with lingering confusion, as the squeal of long unused wheels traveled the well-worn oak floors, a powder blue baby carriage coming into view. Hands reached forward next, carefully plucking her off the shelf she occupied, and lowered her into this new mode of transport. 

The squeaking resumed, as the party of two trekked past shelves stuffed with all manner of antiquities, colorful quilts, flowery china, irregular table lamps, and wrong reading clocks. Before long it seemed, a door loomed ahead. With the twist of a knob, darkness extended, rushing to bathe the carriage in it's gloom, and in doing so, instilled a new feeling entirely. 

Dread.

As the squeal came to a halt, the weakest sliver of yellow tried it's best to light the densely filled room from a single, swinging bulb. Much of what she could see was packed into unforgiving cardboard boxes, reaching nearly to the ceiling in teetering towers. Reminding herself not to flinch at the last second, a cleaning cloth abruptly met her nose, polishing the smudged porcelain in a slow rotation, then, the elderly antiquitor was suddenly looking her right in the eyes, seeming apologetic, almost wearily so. 

"We'll try again, in the summertime" The older woman spoke, surely more to herself, than the silent porcelain doll, before straightening up, tucking the cloth back into her pocket. A few steps more, and she was gone from sight entirely.

The clunk of a door closing had never sounded more finite.  

Sharp breathing quickly filled the silence, bordering on hypervenilation for the briefest of moments. "Everything's fine, everything will be fine..." Placing a polished hand to her chest, only to absently begin to smooth out the wrinkles being moved had caused in her daffodil dress. Peering over the edge of the carriage, she'd ascertain that the distance to the floor wasn't /too/ great, but one could never be too careful when highly breakable.

Bundling up a fistful of the sheet that lined the carriage, the auburn haired doll unceremoniously tossed it over the edge. A workable cushion now in place, she'd cautiously hook one leg over the edge, gripping the mouth of the carriage as tight as she could. Miscalculating, however, the excess puff of the sheet. As one of her mary janes sunk slowly into it, the material would make a sudden twist, assuring that balance would be immediately lost. 

It all happened in a flurry of motion, the carriage tipping to one side, toward her, the pure horror that would spring upon her freckled features, and what sounded like...dozens of wooden thumps crossing the room in a span of a singular second. Before the carriage could come down upon her, she'd be yanked aside, sheet somehow ending up beneath herself, like a makeshift trampoline with less spring. 

Now, she'd be loathe to confess, but fear had squeezed her eyes closed, and reopening had occurred /after/ her rescue. Speaking of which...

"Hello?" She'd call out, as loudly as dared during daylight hours, sitting up on the now wadded blanket, searching for the someone...or someone's, who'd come to her aid.

Something to her far left.. clacked, only to repeat itself, causing her to squint as the piled boxes, and dim of the room obscured the milling of figures a few paces away. 

That simply wouldn't do, now would it?

Standing, she'd call out once more, pouring on all the assuring sweetness she could muster. "It's alright! Please, won't you come out? I do need to thank you, after all" That seemed to do the trick, as the continuously wooden sounding shuffle grew that much louder, until, much to her elevated eyebrows, a pile of rather tall figures spilled upon the floor, stacked like a felled house of cards. 

The first one to stand, appeared to be doing so, backward, until the swivel of a head occured, and the stoic stare of what she now realized was a ventriloquist dummy, met her own. Now, unlike most, who would surely sprint at the sheer, frightening sight of one, the freckled doll merely smiled, allowing the others to regain their bearings, quietly watching them shamble forward, the dummies almost seeming to exude an uncertainty of their own. 

But, the group was only met with a honey sweet smile, and an earnest question.

"Well, Hello! My name's Gabby Gabby, what's yours?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Is it a bit ahead of the curve to write a story about a character who's only gotten 2 lines of dialogue? Maybe, but, I also couldn't shake the urge to write about her! ^^; I hope miss Gabby Gabby finds a home someday. Written as a gift for a very sweet friend. Hope you enjoyed! <3


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